


this is the day we greet

by pomme (manta)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Comedy, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 18:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manta/pseuds/pomme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is ordinary, not as talented as the rest, but determined to wield more than just a spear. She considers herself a forgettable Villager B, turning her dissatisfaction into fuel for her desire to progress. And in each other, they find the means to move forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is the day we greet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KanaDMK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanaDMK/gifts).



> For my fic recipient, who requested fluffy and/or comedic YamaYachi! Please enjoy, KanaDMK. <3

29.8 centimetres.

Almost the length of a standard school ruler, and the exact height difference between the two of them.

Sometimes Yachi wonders what it’s like up there, at his eye level. If eagle spottings are a common occurrence. Or if the _air_ tastes different in the stratosphere.

(Okay, a slight exaggeration. Still. She wonders.)

Tsukishima intimidates her, and not just because of his sharp tongue. Every inch of his whopping 188.3 centimetres screams “blocker” when he relaxes into his height, uses it to his advantage, grows into it with ease. It’s a natural extension of him, much like his blonde hair, myopia, and snark.

Yamaguchi, on the other hand, stands almost as tall, but nowhere near as straight or with the same presence. He shrinks into himself, as if apologizing for taking up so much space. And he is forever spilling apologies- to Tsukishima, to his teammates, maybe even to himself. The lone upward spike in his hair doesn’t help him gain on Tsukishima; rather, it accentuates how much farther he has to go.

It’s why, when Yachi’s gathered her wits enough to think back on meeting the team for the first time, she recalls stretching her neck to look at Yamaguchi- only to find she hasn’t leaned back far enough.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for Yamaguchi to learn that Karasuno’s new manager is competent, twitchy, easily excitable, and scared stiff of…well, everything.

Though he really should have gotten a clue during the team’s first glimpse of her - a tiny, quivering thing peeking around their current manager, like she was mortally afraid of being swallowed whole. Shimizu even barks at them not to gather round for group greetings, at least not until Yachi is used to the attention.

His suspicions are _really_ confirmed at the third practice, where Yachi has inched far away enough from Shimizu to sit on her own. But an enormous fly zooms near her face; she shakes her head vigorously and her folder’s contents spill to the floor, while she screams loud enough to wake the dead and their ancestors four generations back. She scuttles right back to her default hiding spot behind Shimizu, whose words of comfort are drowned over Yachi’s babbling and Tanaka and Noya’s yells to swat the jerk bug frightening their potential manager-to-be.

It simultaneously wells up sympathy in Yamaguchi, and the urge to protect her.

But just when Shimizu’s somehow convinced Yachi not to run to the opposite end of Japan, Takeda calls the manager away for a conversation, and the fly returns in its buzzing, thick bodied glory. Yachi clamps her mouth shut to muffle her shriek, her slight shoulders hunched in fear. But she grips her clipboard tight, lips set in a tight line, and propels the fly out of the gym with a well-aimed, paranoia-fuelled swing. Suga shuts the doors with a slam and gives her a thumbs up.

Yamaguchi turns away, faintly grinning at his own foolishness.

 

* * *

 

He had never believed himself particularly talented at anything, let alone possessing endurance for long distance running. But Yamaguchi’s starting to accept the fact he might just develop the stamina from Training Camp alone.

Karasuno is _slaughtered_ in their first match to Fukurodani (25 to a mere 12) and pays for their loss with an invigorating jog up the hill. Unless something drastically changes in their matches, they just might run the equivalent of a cross country marathon, tallied between the steep slope and the exercise they get from the camp itself.

He somehow manages to cross the finish line only third to Hinata and Kageyama. Coming after people who have the energy to sprint _and_ argue the whole way, probably counts for something. They immediately race back to the gym to watch the remaining match between Shinzen and Ubugawa, while Yamaguchi looks around for his water bottle and towel, expecting Shimizu.

His stomach roils at the sight of a lone tiny blonde waiting by their inventory.

He’s never done particularly well with girls, on his own terms. He’s perfected the art of deflecting many of them away, when Tsukki’s patience wears thin and Yamaguchi steps in before his best friend says something hurtful. But they rarely approach to speak to him; even with Shimizu, he can only manage something polite and distant.

(It doesn’t help Yamaguchi’s noticed Yachi’s wide, expressive brown eyes, her nervous, bright smile, and how she greets every player, benched or not, with the same amount of excitement and concern. But he won’t dwell on those things, won’t give them any more thought than the “Cute…” that flitted into his brain when he first saw her.)

Good thing he’s already flushed and sweaty from his run- or not. He’s hit with a wave of crippling self-consciousness, before he reminds himself he’s in a physical state that’s no better or worse than the rest of his team mates. He approaches, mumbling a hello, but Yachi’s already waiting, his bottle plucked out of its holder and in her hands. “Here you go, Yamaguchi-kun!” She’s wearing her smile, the bright one, more radiant than usual with the sun at her back.

“Th-th-thanks!” he splutters, the epitome of smoothness. He wants to kick himself, and instead gulps down a fourth of his bottle in one long swallow.

Yachi’s smile freezes, but she seems to chalk his ineloquence up to breathlessness from the run. “Good work! Don’t open your mouth and let the bugs fly in!” she says, nodding stiffly, like she wants to say something encouraging, but doesn’t quite know what.

“G-Got it!” Hinata would’ve said something that puts her at ease, but Yamaguchi doesn’t have the same casualness, or self assuredness in his words. He hands the bottle back and, relieved, moves to join Hinata and Kageyama’s peeping. But he catches the sight of Yachi’s hands around his bottle, so small they barely encircle the thickest part, and his eyes follow the bright colours of the rest of the team’s drinks next to her.

“Do you... need help bringing those in?” He makes sure not to trip over his words this time.

“Oh! Thank you, but it’s fine.” Distracted by his question, she relaxes a little. “If I need help, I’ll ask Asahi-san. It’ll be a while before everyone else arrives, anyway. You’re a really fast runner, you know?”

“Yes, I am! Thank you!” Yamaguchi agrees instinctively, then fights the urge to smack himself on the forehead. What if he comes off arrogant?

Luckily Yachi nods, hearing encouragement to continue. “Like the wind! Or a hummingbird!”

“A hummingbird? The tiny animals that drink nectar and fly around flowers?”

“For their body size to movement ratio, they’re incredibly fast!”

She talks with her whole body, head bobbing and hands moving, swinging her arm in a fist as she says _incredibly_. “Cute..” is back in Yamaguchi’s mind, severing ties to any other coherent thought, and all he can manage in time is a choked, “O-oh! That’s- interesting.”

“Interesting?” She clearly misinterprets his slightly glazed over eyes, because her mouth drops open in horror. “Unless… unless you were mad I called you a hummingbird, because they’re tiny? You’re not tiny, you’re really not! You’re huge!” Her eyes are dinner plate sized now. “I meant- I meant. Oh no. Did I insult you, Yamaguchi-kun?! I’m sorry!”

“No, no! Not at all! It’s okay!” He stammers in return, eager to correct her before she completely goes down the wrong path. Unfortunately, she’s gunning for the same idea.

“No need to be polite, Yamaguchi-kun. If you were offended, please tell me. How else will I learn?”

“I’m not offended! Really! I’m-”

“How do I make it up to you? Do I have to run the same distance you did? I’ll do that!”

“Wait! Y-Yachi-sa-!”

But she’s already taken off. On her way towards the embankment she passes Asahi, who stops and turns around to watch her go in confusion. He squints, rubbing the sweat out of his eyes to make sure he’s not hallucinating.

He pivots back and, spying Yamaguchi, jogs over to him.

“Um… Why is Yacchan running and crying? And why is she still holding your water bottle?”

“I-I’ll get her,” Yamaguchi squeaks, and takes off in the manager’s general direction.

In the end, Yachi is only caught by Yamaguchi and Asahi teaming up, right at the summit of the unforgiving slope. They might have caught her sooner, if she hadn’t mistaken the pair of them for kidnappers and ran away screaming (turns out that under duress, she gives even Hinata a run for his money). But with a lot of chasing, reassurance, and some tissues Asahi has on hand, the three of them peacefully head back to the gym, if just a hint more sweaty and tired than they anticipated.

Their sheepish return is witnessed by both their own team and Shinzen, their next opponent- all waiting for Asahi so they can start the next match. He is soundly scolded by Daichi, but Yamaguchi and Yachi know he’s not the one to blame. “Sorry,” the three of them say, and bow so low their foreheads nearly touch the ground.

A sincere and humble apology, as the glass hearted know how to do best.

 

* * *

The Karasuno third years are in a spirited discussion with their Nekoma counterparts, the second years surrounded by a gaggle of interested people at the very loud (thanks to Noya and Tanaka) card game they’re playing.

The first years are grouped together only in name. Their table is silent, save for the scrap of wooden chopsticks shovelling food into hungry mouths.

Yachi’s used to eating dinner alone, with the rest of the house lights turned off, on the many evenings her mother stays late at the office. It makes meals alongside people with whom she can converse, that much more meaningful.

“Um,” she says.

At least she knows her peers well enough by now to understand they’re paying attention, even when they’re not looking at her. Hinata is _trying_ to make eye contact, though his plate is obscuring his face. Kageyama’s busy with his third helping of dinner, and doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Tsukishima’s watching them with an expression similar in pleasantness to observing worms drowning in puddles, and Yamaguchi’s eyes are fixed pointedly on his food as he picks at it.

“How were the rest of the matches? I had a manager meeting, so I couldn’t stay to watch.”

Hinata surfaces for air, his cheeks bulging. “We lost all of’em, Yachi!” he says thickly. “Every single one! Kageyama and I kept trying the combo, and we _almost_ pulled it off a few times, but-”

He’s swatted on the back of his head by the setter. “Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Kageyama yells, around a mouthful of food. Bits of chewed up carrot pepper the table.

“Your mouth is _just_ as full!” Hinata retorts, contributing pieces of chewed up beans to the growing mosaic. Tsukishima utters a groan of disgust before turning away.

Yachi and Yamaguchi not-so-discreetly lift their plates off the table in the ensuing spray war. He glances over at Tsukishima, who looks like a piece of his soul has died, but turns his eyes straight back to his food. She means to call to Yamaguchi, maybe even just to catch his eye to say, “ _Can’t be helped,_ ” at the argument occurring next to her, and share exasperated smiles. Anything, to make up for what happened earlier on the hill.

She finds the intent, but not the courage to speak. The faint noise she attempts to push out is drowned out by Kageyama and Hinata’s bickering; on her next attempt, the sound lodges in her throat on the way up, and she lets it die there.

He doesn’t look at her once.

Then Tsukishima says, “Let’s go, Yamaguchi. I can’t watch this anymore,” and with the creak of chairs scraping against the floor, they’re gone.

 

* * *

 

“…Ah.” A faint exhale, tinged with shock.

Yachi’s not the only one who’s noticed the switch in players; the spectators who remember the last time Seijou played Karasuno are all exclaiming with similar recognition. It seems the entirety of the stands turned up for their previous match.

“It’s him! The server from the Interhigh!”

“I’ve seen that skinny guy before! Didn’t he mess up last time?”

“He’s green in the face… Think he’ll make it?”

Her stomach rumbles ominously at the thought of her last conversation with Yamaguchi, a makeshift therapy session when he confided his fears of costing the team victory. It hadn’t brought them closer, exactly, and ended rather badly when _she_ wound up needing his comfort. But alongside the uncomfortable wad of embarrassment in her chest, she feels the satisfied glow that he trusted her enough to confide in her.

The crowd’s murmurs grow louder. From the tightening of Yamaguchi’s jaw and the bead of sweat rolling down his cheek, it’s clear he’s not deaf to the jitters. He hasn’t forgotten, either.

But Ukai presses his hand into Yamaguchi’s back, and he bravely stalks forward. Past the bench, where he grew comfortable and then restless, and over the court boundary, that he feared to cross and then longed to pierce.

Hinata barrels over, as he says something with his usual exuberance. When he steps away, Yamaguchi breaks into a grin, the first real one Yachi’s ever seen him wear. The rest of the team shout their encouragement, and Hinata joins Suga, Noya, and Ennoshita in an energetic formation (when did they even _learn_ that?) to cheer Yamaguchi on.

He nods, quietly but appreciatively, taking strength from their support as he stares straight ahead of him at the net and the opponents behind it. His eyes mirror the concentrated focus in Kageyama’s gaze, and his hands firmly grasp the ball.

His shoulders are coiled- not from fright, but like a compressed spring about to release, and Yachi feels the knots in her stomach unravelling.

 _He’ll be fine_. _I’m sure of it!_

The ball rises up, then over as Yamaguchi throws, leaps- and strikes. The ball doesn’t fly toward Seijou’s side with impressive force or curve. Then again, it’s not meant to.

“It’s out!” Seijou’s libero declares with confidence as he watches it near the line. But the ball veers suddenly, striking the floor just to his right. Everyone’s eyes flick to the referee, their collective breaths held for the call.

And the telltale red flag comes down.

“He did iiiit!” Tears prick at Yachi’s eyes. Her cries are deafened by Saeko’s and Takinoue’s yells (even some cheering in Seijou’s section), and the roar of Yamaguchi’s teammates as they sprint towards him. Shimada is silent, and when Yachi glances over at him he’s holding his arms palms up, with his hands balled into fists, just like his protégé below, his own eyes closed with an emotion that’s of both pride and nostalgia.

The Seijou team wears matching expressions of simultaneous annoyance and grudging respect. When the dust clears from Karasuno’s on court stampede, Yamaguchi’s face is fixed once more in that concentrated expression- aiming for no less than success.

And the little tug of pride in Yachi's chest, is a guarantee that he’ll make it.

 

* * *

 

The ball falls short.

It hits the net and falls straight down, bouncing pathetically and rolling on the floor before finally coming to a stop against the net pole. Yamaguchi looks, just _looks_ at it for a moment, recalling the words that had stuck with him ever since he first heard them in Training Camp.

“ _Serve and block. Throw them into disarray with a serve, then bring the opponent down by blocking the attack they’ve been pressed into doing._ ”

The definition sounds firm, and doable. But Yamaguchi can’t say he orchestrated it to his best ability in the Spring High, from the get go. He thinks of his successful serves, of the ones that worked, against Seijou, and the one that didn’t, against Shiratorizawa, and the one that barely did, against Wakutaniminami. It’s hardly a sparkling track record, and he can admit that without bitterness or being hard on himself, like he was prone to do before.

He doesn’t want to leave his serves to chance. He wants to orchestrate them himself, not by luck, but by his own hands, his own strength, his own design. In the one moment when all eyes are on him, and his team mates can only send their verbal encouragement, he wants to stand tall, alone on the court.

It might be a presumptuous statement to make. But whenever Yamaguchi thinks he’s too in over his head, he considers Hinata, who is quickly and surely moving towards the lofty goal of “ace” he set for himself. Kageyama, no longer king of the court, but a firm link in a chain. Tsukki, who faced his inner doubts to rediscover his interest in volleyball. And Yachi, who believed herself weak and weak willed, a forgettable Villager B, and turned her dissatisfaction into fuel for her desire to move forward.

As impressed as he is with his fellow first years, he identifies the most with Yachi’s circumstances. He thinks of the conversation she had with her mom (which Hinata told with her permission, in a spirited blow by blow account including a lot of “Gwah!”s and “Bam!”s) and their conversations about anxiety. He cost Karasuno victory in the Interhigh for reasons not exactly volleyball related. He had the movements of his serve down; it was confidence and consistency he lacked, the power to drive his limbs into a winning serve.

He is ordinary, and not as talented as some of his team mates. He can lend a helping hand, But he longd to wield more than just a spear. He doesn’t want to waste another opportunity worrying about unnecessary things.

Shimada told him after the Interhigh, when Yamaguchi still felt the sting of failure, “You need to be strong to really have fun.”

Well, he can always be a little stronger, can’t he?

“Yamaguchi-kun?” Yachi’s standing on the sidelines, worriedly watching. “Is everything all right? You were staring at the ball...”

“Everything’s fine!” he said, louder than he meant to. He’s probably staring rather fiercely too, because Yachi takes a small step back.

“Oh. Good!” she says, alarmed. “Well, don’t let me keep you,” and she turns to go.

“Wait! Yachi-san!”

His hand shoots out to seize her wrist for good measure. His fingers can wrap all the way around it. The command reminds him of the one he couldn’t say to stop her running up the hill, or the words he couldn’t bring himself to tell her at dinner, even when he knew she was on the verge of saying something to him.

Yachi freezes, entirely unsure of what’s about to happen. She clutches her clipboard like a chest plate, looking up at him apprehensively. He can almost see every farfetched option running through her head. She’ll be tied and thrown into the back of a truck. Sent to a bog. With leeches. And countless flies. Maybe a dead body here or there. Possibly hostile vines. And man eating alligators.

Every moment the tension grows, and so does the discomfort in his stomach. But most of all, he just wants to dissipate the fear in those wide eyes.

He’s not sure where exactly to begin. So he’ll begin with what he knows.

“We talked, before the Spring High match with Seijou. You told me I’d feel more relieved if I said what was bothering me, and you looked into all sorts of stuff.”

She visibly brightens, understanding her chances of being abducted have scaled back from somewhere around the ninetieth percentile to barely even one. “I remember! And, uh…” she sighs. “I didn’t help very much, because I became the anxious one in the end. Sorry.”

“I went into the match the same person I always was. Even the best, or the worst, pep talk wouldn’t have changed the outcome,” he says, and means it. “The third years are done, but we have two more years to play. They left the club in our hands, and I want to use my time supporting it as well as I can.”

Yachi still looks rather confused, though no longer terrified. “Um, I can ask Kageyama-kun if he has tips on jump float serves?” she offers, and Yamaguchi realizes she doesn’t quite understand.

“It’s not about volleyball,” he insists. “It’s about being scared, and letting that fear stop me again. I want to prevent that. I did my best, but I can do better.” His hands ball into fists on his knees. It’s embarrassing, but the words feel necessary. “It has to be you, Yachi-san.”

Her cheeks pinken. “W-well, I don’t know,” she says, rubbing the back of her head. “There are some major things I haven’t tried, mostly because they’re too overwhelming to try on my own.”

“What if there _is_ someone else to try them with? If you’ll have me, of course,” he adds hastily.

She ducks her head, and it takes a moment for him to see that she's smiling. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

_Yamaguchi and Yachi’s List of Methods to Knock Down Panic and Anxiety!_

_#1: Exposure_

 

“This is like a sauna,” Yamaguchi says.

They’re both sweating, the air heated from the enclosed room, body heat, and their fear, probably.

“Good atmosphere,” Yachi agrees, nodding fiercely. “Don’t mind, don’t mind.”

Yachi referred to the Training Camp barbecue as moving among a “jungle of giants”, while Yamaguchi’s memories were mostly of conversations he had with Tsukki because he was intimidated by everyone’s towering presence. Given their shared fear for all things tall and fierce, they decided to kill two birds with one stone: sitting in on a practice with the Karasuno Basketball Team.

They figured coming in on days when only half the team was there, sharing the court with the girls’ volleyball team, would make the situation easier.

The situation isn’t easier.

The players are, expectedly, tall, strong, and have endless stamina. It doesn’t help they keep throwing curious glances Yamaguchi and Yachi’s way, though they’re focused enough to ignore the pair after a while. Everyone that is, except the muscular captain, who at least appears to be watching them more from confusion than irritation.

“How are you feeling, Yamaguchi-kun?” Yachi whispers.

“Terrified!” he answers. “I’d say… a seven out of ten. You?”

“Hm,” she considers. “I’d say a comfortable six point eight, right about now. If the danger rises, I’ll let you know.”

“Takahashi, have you seen a volleyball kneepad?” A petite girl ducks around the long fabric dividing the gym in half. “One of my players has lost theirs.”

Yamaguchi notices the “1” on the girl’s shirt. “That’s the captain of the girls’ volleyball team!” he whispers, though he and Yachi are too far away to hear the rest of the conversation.

(“Oh, thank god, it’s you, Michimiya!” Takahashi almost pounces on Yui in his relief. “Who are those two? Are they on the track team? They’re sweating like they ran a marathon.”

“They’re wearing volleyball jackets! So they’re Sawamura’s.”

“Maybe you could ask them why they’re here,” the basketball captain suggests.

“Why me?” Yui asks, curious.

“Uh…”

The delay in his answer betrays his hesitation. Yui folds her arms. “What’s the problem, Takahashi?”

“Well, we could talk to them together, as two captains. Because they look so… intimidating.”

“Really? To an athlete like you?” One person is tiny. The other one’s quite tall, but he’s also quite scrawny. She’s not buying it. “They’re harmless, from the look of it. And they’re on _your_ side of the gym.”

“No! I’m…” The captain looks around to make sure his team’s not watching, unsure, making his boyish face appear even younger. He beckons to Yui, who reluctantly leans in. “All right. All right. The little blonde… well. Um.” He scratches his cheek. “See, I’m bad around cute girls, and-”

“What am I, then? Dried meat?!”

The basketball captain glances around again. “No! I loosen up the longer I know someone, and since we’ve been friends for three years… It’s just, you know, you don’t _count_ because we’ve known each other so long-”

“Rude,” Yui says crossly, but she’s already off before the captain can splutter another explanation.)

“Hi there!” she calls, and to Yamaguchi and Yachi’s horror, _the captain of the girls’ volleyball team_ is walking towards them, looking thoroughly put out.

“Is she mad?” Yamaguchi whispers.

“I hope not,” Yachi squeaks in return.

But the closer the captain comes, the less annoyed she seems. By the time she reaches them, she has a pleasant smile on her face. She settles backwards on the bleachers in front of them, facing them, and crosses her arms casually over the top of the seat’s back.

“I’m Michimiya,” she says. “You’re from the boys’ team, right? Well, the basketball captain-” here she shoots the almost two meter captain a look, her fierceness returning, and he visibly cowers, “-wasn't expecting observers. You both looked a bit stressed, and we wondered if things are all right?"

“Things are fine!” Yamaguchi stammers. “We’re here just for today!”

“We’re purposely stressing ourselves out!” Yachi adds, like that helps. “To get stronger!”

Yui’s smile drops ever so slightly in bewilderment, but she hitches it quickly back into place. “Well, um. I didn’t expect that, but…” She nods once, and Yamaguchi’s reminded of a more daunting Yachi. “Do your best! Good luck!”

“Th-thanks,” they stammer together, watching Yui walk straight back to Takahashi.

“This might be too much stress,” Yachi says, out of the corner of her mouth. “Let’s stay two more minutes, and call it a day.”

“Sounds good,” Yamaguchi answers, and he knows he wouldn’t have lasted another two _seconds_ without Yachi next to him. She suddenly grips the sleeve of his jacket, catching the queasiness in his voice. He would be more embarrassed, but knowing he’s not alone makes him feel slightly better.

The captains continue their whispered discussion, their brows furrowed with concern, while their respective teams blatantly attempt to eavesdrop, curious to know what the hold up is. Yui’s team have their heads poked around the dividing curtain.

“Should we… do something about them?” Takahashi asks. “Not like we’re getting much done, in the way of practice.”

“I guess we shouldn’t? They don’t _seem_ like they’re in trouble. I’ll have a word with Sawamura next time I see him, though.” Yui frowns, placing her hands on her hips. She glances back at Yamaguchi and Yachi, still sitting frozen, with sweat pouring off in buckets. “Is this some sort of training? Just what is he doing to those first years?!”

 

* * *

 

_Yamaguchi and Yachi’s List of Methods to Knock Down Panic and Anxiety!_

_#4: Massage_

 

Only five minutes in, and with Yamaguchi shivering on the Yachis’ massage bed, and Yachi herself trembling just as badly at the thought of (gasp!) _skin touching skin_ **,** they both realize this was a _horrible_ idea.

“Y-Yachi-s-san,” Yamaguchi stammers, “I th-think you. R-rub the o-oil in your h-hands before a-applying it t-to my b-b-back.”

Despite the barrage of emotions rapidly flipping through her head, Yachi’s glad that she and Yamaguchi are at least on the same page: they’re not giving up.

“O-okay,” she says, very nearly losing her grip on the bottle on her first attempt to open it. When she finally unscrews the cap, she accidentally tips the neck too far; oil gushes out into the sink, completely coating her hands. She rubs vigorously anyway.

 _Rated the top method of relaxation in Home Weekly. The top method!_ , she reminds herself. Then she peeks at Yamaguchi’s bare back, freckled and pink, and panics again.

“Y-Yachi-san,” Yamaguchi says, more insistently, as if he knows she’s psyching herself out. “L-let’s get this o-over with.”

She approaches the bed, lowers her hands closer. “I-I’m sorry, Yamaguchi-kun!” she squeaks, regretting her entire sixteen tender years of existence, and finally presses down in between his shoulder blades.

Yamaguchi whimpers, and shrinks away instantly. “C-cold!” he yelps.

Yachi hastily glances at the label on the bottle. Oh, _no_. “I-it’s eucalyptus mint! I’m so sorry, Yamaguchi-kun!” He’s even more tense than he was before, his back muscles very visible as he curls in. But they’re here for a mission, and Yachi braces herself. “I’m. I’m going to, uh. R-rub in circles now,” she says, sounding braver than she feels. “You’ll have t-to hold s-still, Yamaguchi-kun.”

“O-okay,” Yamaguchi stutters, and she sees his jaw tighten before he buries his red face into his arms. He shudders again when she digs her palms in, but resists the urge to roll off the table and out the apartment window.

The oil is cold, but Yachi can still sense Yamaguchi’s warmth permeating the substance, until all she feels in her hands is heat. As her trembling fingers push in opposite directions, they follow the grooves in his toned back and run along a sea of freckles, rising up and down in smooth curves. A few minutes more, and he’s slowly unclenched himself, slumping into the table; even his flyaway droops, and Yachi takes it as a sign he’s not in _total_ agony.

“H-how does it feel?” she tentatively asks. She’s only done this for her mom, who comes home complaining of sore shoulders. But rubbing her mother’s back is nothinglike her fingers grazing over Yamaguchi’s bare back.

“It’s not bad,” is the faint reply, his words slurring with drowsiness. “Kind of nice, even. B-but...” His voice trails off, and she stops moving.

“But?”

Yamaguchi is silent for a minute, his breathing slow and even, like he’d never spoken a word in the first place, or lost the will to say anything more. Thinking he fell asleep, Yachi reaches for a fluffy towel on the rack to drape over him.

She’s about to tiptoe out for paper towels to sponge up the spilled oil, when he murmurs once more.

“But please, let’s not do that again... Hitoka-chan.”

He’s quiet again, and Yachi decides she doesn’t really need paper towels, not yet. She silently, firmly, and calmly walks into her mom’s bedroom for the nearest pillow- and screams into it.

 

* * *

 

_Yamaguchi and Yachi’s List of Methods to Knock Down Panic and Anxiety!_

_#7: The Half Hour of Worry_

 

“Will this really help?” Yamaguchi asks, doubtfully.

They’re seated across from each other, in the grass outside of the gym.

“Supposedly it does!” Yachi says, perusing her printouts. “We worry for half an hour straight, and the rest of our day should be less anxiety inducing!”

“This might be what happened before Seijou at the Spring High, all over again.”

“Well, we’re already here! I’ll take responsibility for what happens, since I suggested we try this. So I’ll go first!” Yachi adjusts her skirt, and Yamaguchi turns to pull at the grass next to him.

“Today is… well, today is different.” Her eyes flicking toward the sky, lit by the barely risen sun.

“Today will be the first day Shimizu-senpai and the other third years won’t be at practice. I’ll be the official manager, Ennoshita-san will be the captain, Tanaka-san will be the vice captain and ace, Kageyama-kun will be the official setter. I feel…”

She pauses, putting her finger to her cheek in thought. “I feel like I’m rising. Like how baby birds fall out of the nest a lot of times before they learn to fly? Well, we’re all on the ground, we’ve fallen a lot of times. We know what to do, and how to do it, but we have to learn to stay in the air.”

“It’s like you said, Yamaguchi-kun.” She lightly prods his knee so he looks up. “The club’s in our hands now. We should do our best.”

“Sounds like you put a lot of thought into this, Yachi-san.” She’s not anxious, not really. Nowhere near their state at the Spring High. He watches her, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her head bobbing as she talks.

“I guess I did!” she responds, glancing at him with a rather sheepish smile. “I always get ready for school the night before, and there was a paper for club I forgot to print out. I thought, ‘It’s fine, Shimizu-senpai always has extras on hand,’ before I remembered she’s not coming. I did worry for a while- like, what if I make another mistake like that? And I probably will.”

“It’s inevitable,” he offers. “We don’t all fly the first time.”

“Yes. And you have to remember that too!” she insists. “That’s why we’re working together. To remind each other that things don’t end with us on the ground.”

He can already feel himself settling into the grass. “Well, I was thinking something similar. Sugawara-san and Daichi-san encouraged me when I lost my confidence, and I felt stronger practicing my serves alongside Azumane-san. It won’t be the same without them. But Ennoshita-san probably understands my feelings better than anyone on the court, and Tanaka-san’s stability in any situation will keep us focused.”

“Different, but a good different!” she chirps. “There’s nothing wrong with growing strong together. That’s what a team’s for!”

“Yes. Exactly!”

The sun’s rays have reached them, chasing away the shade, thawing the grass and their limbs.

Yachi pulls out her phone to check the time. “Hm, only ten minutes. But I feel better already! Like I can do anything. Like make a half court shot! Or finish all the manager paperwork in a minute flat! Or speed walk around the school ten times!”

“Those might be a bit hard to finish before practice starts,” Yamaguchi says, sensibly.

“Oh, I know. But that’s how energized I am right now! We _could_ walk around the track a few times! We’ll be warmed up by the time Kageyama-kun and Hinata sprint over here.“

For the first time, the silence that settles between them doesn’t seem daunting, but peaceful, comforting. The quiet hangs over like a blanket, swaying comfortably on a clothesline in the breeze.

 

* * *

 

Slowly but surely, things improve.

Yamaguchi and Yachi decide not to repeat the exposure experiment, as they were enough of a disruption to distract not one, but _two_ practices. They did manage to track down both captains, to make amends before either of them could tell Daichi.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Yui reassured them. “We were just a little worried, you know? You both looked so _terrified_. Whatever you were doing, we hope it worked out.”

“We won’t be doing it again,” Yamaguchi said, sheepishly.

“That’s probably for the best,” Takahashi agreed, and barked out a laugh.

“D-did you find the missing kneepad, Michimiya-san?” Yachi asked.

“We did, thanks!” Yui beamed down at her. “And _you_ ’ _ve_ got some sturdy knees! I’m sure Sawamura won’t mind if I steal you away for an afternoon. You’ll receive like a pro when I’m done with you!”

“She’s joking, I think,” Takahashi said, at the identical looks of horror on the first years’ faces. “Well, thanks for apologizing.”

First year outings become considerably easier. She’s always been approachable, and now with Yamaguchi slowly becoming aware of his worth on the team, their budding friendship makes for easy conversation. It’s not so much that they’ve been spending less time with their respective friends, but that they’ve been making time for each other.

Besides, they’re not the only ones changing.

“We’re winning every single match at this year’s Training Camp!” Hinata declares during one of their study sessions. “I can’t wait to show Kenma and Lev and everyone our new moves! Kageyama, make sure we win! I’m not losing because of you!”

A vein throbs in Kageyama’s temple, and for a moment it looks like he’ll retort with something nasty. But he snaps his mouth shut, nodding curtly before speaking again. “We won’t.”

“Yamaguchi-kun and Tsukishima-kun won’t lose either!” Yachi pipes up. “Yamaguchi-kun’s got his jump float serve, and Tsukishima-kun’s blocking has improved so much!”

“It’s weird not to see any of the third years this year!” Hinata continues. “Everyone, from Daichi-san and Suga-san and Asahi-san and Shimizu-senpai, to Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san!”

“Aren’t you relieved about those two, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi teases, and they laugh when Tsukishima responds with a noncommittal grunt.

As Yachi predicted, taking on responsibilities as the official manager meant making more mistakes at first. Shimizu had been careful to train her as much as possible, but there are always emergencies she’s not ready for, like the equipment inventory paper floating into the space between two floor-to-ceiling shelves.

When Yamaguchi’s serve frustrates him, or Yachi’s frazzled by manager work, one pulls the other outside, away from where their thoughts linger. They spend more time outside either way, as they yawn greetings to each other in the early hours for their daily half hours of worry, which aren’t so much about worries anymore, but conversations.

He drops into her classroom to say hello with Tsukki during her lunch breaks, in the brief period of time before she starts tutoring Kageyama and Hinata. Sometimes he’ll stop by with a juice box in hand, setting it shyly on her desk with an accompanying, “Good luck with tutoring.”

The strange thing is, he never feels like he’s imposing. Tsukishima accepted his presence quietly, sometimes with a remark, previously with a “Shut up, Yamaguchi” at times. It’s just how Tsukki is; he won’t outwardly express he’s glad to see someone.

But Yachi’s his first friend who beams and motions wildly when she sees him, or trots over to his side, close enough to touch. She always prefaces her questions with a curious “Yamaguchi-kun,” as if she’s making it clear she’s not asking anyone else, rising on her tiptoes to make sure she’s in his line of sight. That small blonde head is attached to a tiny back, but it’s no less dependable than anyone else’s on the team.

It’s a mutual understanding, Yamaguchi thinks one practice, as he serves a perfect jump float serve without hesitation.

It doesn’t occur to him until one break, when Yachi makes a beeline straight for him, that they don’t _have_ to do these things. They’re seek each other out merely to be together, whether they spend that time together with conversation or silence.

Sometimes Yachi acts strange, turning red, smiling softly, looking at him when she thinks he’s not looking, and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t do the same.

He’d also be lying if he said he didn’t think about the short-lived massage, even if they had naturally chosen never to pursue the endeavor again. This, and not any worry, is what keeps him up a little longer at night nowadays- the memory of small, careful fingers trailing along his back, shaking rather severely but still doing their job properly.

She thought he took being compared to a hummingbird unfavorably. But when he watches her flit around the court, always prepared, in search of something or someone to help, there really is no better analogy.

 

* * *

 

“Let’s go home together!” Hinata announces to the new second years, immediately after practice. “I’ve got enough grocery money left over to treat you to…” He checks his pockets. “...Uh, nothing fancy. But enough for something at Sakanoshita!”

Tsukishima removes his headphones, so as to give Hinata his full and undivided sarcastic attention. “You don’t become captain just by treating everyone to meat buns, you know,” he drawls.

Hinata puffs his cheeks indignantly. “I’m just being nice, jerk!”

“Um,” Yachi interrupts, before Tsukishima can retort. “I’m sorry Hinata, I really want to! But I’m on cleaning duty today, and I promised my teacher I’d do it after practice.” She shrugs helplessly. “I’ll see everyone tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it, Yachi!” Hinata says at once. “Are you coming, Kageyama, Yamaguchi?”

The setter shrugs. He won’t refuse the chance for free food.

“I, uh…” Yamaguchi glances after Yachi, whose blonde hair reflects in the light as she heads back towards the classrooms. He scratches the back of his neck, carefully avoiding everyone’s expectant gazes, Tsukishima’s narrowed eyes in particular. “I’ve got something I need to take care of, so I’ll be here a bit longer. Sorry, Hinata.”

Aware of their suspicious looks boring into his back, he hitches up his backpack, trying to appear nonchalant as he follows their tiny manager.

.

“Yamaguchi-kun, are you sure you don’t mind waiting? I appreciate you walking with me. But really, you can leave now!”

“Of course I don’t mind. Are you sure you’re not trying to get rid of me?”

“What? No! Not at all!” Panicked, she turns to reassure him, only to get hit full on in the face by the light of the setting sun. She shuffles closer to the bus stop sign, temporarily obscuring the glare, and catches his grin in the shadow. “You-!”

“Sorry, sorry!” And he allows her to poke at his arm. “I go home this way. It’s fine.”

She huffs in annoyance, but turns her jab into a pat. “Thank you, Yamaguchi-kun,” she sighs, and gives him a small, fond smile. “You’re really sweet.”

Yamaguchi blushes to the roots of his hair, and ducks his head to avoid her eyes. “It’s really no big deal,” he mutters to the concrete. “Nothing’s too much, when it’s you.”

The ringing silence is shrill. Yachi watches him dig one toe of his sneakers into the grass, shifting awkwardly where he stands, the shock clear on her own face. Slowly, surely, she comes to a decision, even as she can feel warmth blooming up her cheeks.

“Yamaguchi-kun,” she says, ignoring his jump as she leads him by the arm away from the other bystanders, “I.. I n-need to tell you something.”

He glances up in worry, his shyness forgotten. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No! It’s-” How can she _breathe_ , when he’s looking down at her so earnestly? “I- I wanted to ask. W-what you meant by. N-nothing being too much, when i-it’s me.”

“Um. Uh.” Now they’re both determinedly looking away from each other. “Well,” he says, rather shrilly, then bursts out, “B-because! Because you’re compassionate, and kind. You go out of your way for others, and you’re a good listener. You try your hardest no matter what, even when you’re scared. That’s why nothing is too much for me- because nothing is ever too much for you.”

Yachi _hears_ the words, takes them in, but for the moment she can only gape. Yamaguchi falters a little at her silence.

“Sh-should I continue?” he asks, hesitantly. His face is still red, but he’s not avoiding her anymore. “I won’t if you don’t want me to, but if I can, I’d like to be honest.”

“G-go ahead,” Yachi stammers, nodding and managing to stop herself from bowing.

“I was bullied as a kid. I joined a sports team because I wanted to be stronger. I didn’t want to stay the pathetic person I was. I am stronger now, but not just because of myself, or for my own sake. It’s because of Tsukki, and my teammates, new people to call friends.

“A-and you too, Yachi-san. I felt no one would understand my lack of self confidence and talent, but you’ve never looked down on me for it. You’re one of the closest friends I have. I’ve grown, gotten better, because of you. And I…” His eyes drop to a spot on floor to her left, as his shoulders hunch and he clutches his bag closer. “I’m scared of ruining what we have,” he says, softly. “I told myself that if anything happened, I want to do... this right. A r- _relationship_ ” -he chokes out the word ungracefully, but it’s there- “right. I just don’t know if I can.”

His words hint at the anxiety she knows too well. They’ve trained their minds and built up endurance, but sometimes there is no helping the spike of fear from wading into waters they’ve never explored.

It breaks her heart to watch all of him visibly droop. And yet, there’s a spreading warmth in her chest when he mentions her name with so much care. Tears spring to her eyes.

“Yamaguchi-kun.” He flinches at how softly she speaks the words, like he’s prepared himself for a possible rejection already and he’s only waiting for the verdict. But instead, she admits, “I’m scared, too! More than when I met the team, because I had Shimizu-senpai. More than when I told my mom I would be club manager, because I had Hinata. More than the afternoon we spent watching the basketball club, because I had you. But now it’s just me, offering myself, with my shaking, short legs and flat chest-”

“Flat chest?! You’re still hung up on that...”

“You don’t seem the type to care about those things!”

“It’s not that I… don’t notice.” He flushes a mottled red. She finds his inability to hide his feelings adorable. “It just doesn’t matter to me as much. I like all of you, flat or not.”

Her cheeks burn at his words, but they also give her the courage to take two steps closer, her feet rustling the grass. She gently lays her hands on top of his, not missing how small hers are in comparison.

“Yamaguchi-kun, please. L-look at me.”

He reluctantly turns to catch her eye. She’s sure he notices her tears. The dim school lamp shows the shadows of his wide-eyed fear; it’s a fear of hers, too, but she ignores the stab of guilt. Because the light reflects his warmth and affection- and a glimmer of hope.

“I don’t know what’ll happen,” she admits. “I’m as clueless as you. I don’t like not knowing if it’ll work out. We’re young. Maybe people will say we’re silly, or we don’t know what love is. Maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe _we’ll_ be a mistake-” She thinks of looking forward, how scary it is to _look_ _forward_ without glancing back.

He tugs one of his hands out to cover hers, his warm, slightly sweaty palm easily engulfing both of hers.

“But we won’t know for sure until we find out,” she ends firmly. “And I think it’s worth finding out. With you.”

“It’s like a fresh start. Kind of.” He flashes her a shaky, hopeful smile.

“Kind of, because we were friends. Still are!” she answers emphatically. “It’s not like we’re suddenly _strangers,_ you know. I won’t be surprised if we eat at WcDonald’s and you leave the fries out for hours to get soggy. Even if I’ll never understand what’s so delicious about them.”

“They’re chewy! You can appreciate the potatoes’ grainy flavour best when they’re cold.”

“But they’re not _supposed_ to be chewy. They’re crispy.”

“So we give up on them once they’re cold? Not a chance!”

She can’t help laughing at his serious face, or the alertness of the flyaway on top of his head. “You’re silly.”

“Why, thank you.” He bows slightly, a playful gleam in his eyes. They both burst into a fit of giggles, and can’t seem to stop. Each round delves into another, until they’re smothering the chortles behind their hands.

But eventually they catch their breaths, and she clasps his much larger palm in her own. “Let’s continue to fight together,” she says. “This is different too, but a good different. Let’s make this work, T-Tadashi-kun.”

His Adam’s apple bobs nervously as he swallows. But he looks straight at her, nods determinedly, and squeezes back.

With a slight wheeze, the white and yellow bus pulls to a halt in front of the bus stop. The driver kills the engine, and the queue of people start to move.

“Well…” And Yachi finds herself awkward again. How does one _end_ a conversation like the one they’ve just had? “I-I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees. But he doesn’t let go.

“Tadashi-kun, how can I go home if you’re holding onto my hand?”

“Oh! Sorry!” He releases her hand, but awkwardly guides her forward into a hug. Yachi’s face meets the expanse of his chest; he’s all hard muscle and bone, but she doesn’t mind. He smells faintly of lavender, and she breathes in the calming scent.

“Tadashi-kun,” she says again, muffled in his arms. Just because she can.

“H-Hitoka-chan.” His voice, whispered into her ear, makes her hold on tighter.

They stay together for a second longer, wrapped in each other, before he finally releases her. She steps onto the bus, scans her pass, and watches him from the window. He finds her, and they exchange smiles.

 _I like you_.

It occurs to her then, that she never said it outright. She doesn’t want him to question that fact, or leave room for any doubt whatsoever. Of all the things that can _possibly_ keep him up at night, she doesn’t want this to be one of them.

 _Open your mouth_. _Say it, like you did at the crosswalk to Mom those months ago. Declare your intent._

The last passenger, a primary school child, races on, and scans his bus card with a beep.

“I like you,” she whispers to her knees.

The engine roars to life. The doors swish closed.

“I like you!” she says, aloud. The old man in front turns around in alarm.

They pull away from the shoulder.

She sits up on her knees, leans close to the open window. She inhales.

And just as they melt into traffic, she makes herself heard.

“I LIKE YOU, TADASHI-KUN!”

Most people on the bus are too tired or apathetic to care, but if they chanced a peek, they’d see a girl up on her knees on the seat, barely reaching the window, yelling her feelings to the lone boy at the bus stop.

And if there was anyone else at the bus stop, they’d see a boy, his face matching the fire in the sunset as the screams of affections fall to his ears. He stares in shock, but collects himself to yell back, “I LIKE YOU TOO, HITOKA-CHAN!”, even though the bus is gone and she’s out of earshot.

He walks away from the stop, and she settles back into her seat, both of their faces heated. But they laugh anyway, breathless from happiness.

 

* * *

 

Yamaguchi isn’t sure what happens, the day after a confession.

First, because it’s the first time he’s been confessed to, and second, because the person who confessed is one Yachi Hitoka, his friend. He’s read maybe one volume of a shoujo manga in his life, and he remembers a lot of hand holding and background sparkles, maybe even a rose somewhere. He considers the idea of flowers, but he lives nowhere near a flower shop, nor is the school situated near one, and decides against it.

Things are more normal than he expects, yet even the most mundane things feel different. He waits dutifully for her at the bus stop, thinks “beautiful,” when she appears at the doors, one strap of her backpack hanging off her shoulder as usual.

He takes her hand to help her off the steps, and doesn’t let go.

“Hi,” she says, shyly.

“Hi,” he answers, just as bashfully, and they smile at each other.

They walk in content silence all the way into school, parting ways only at their classrooms. Tsukki is in the hallway, listening to music; his only response to their linked hands is a raised eyebrow.

Yachi’s dismissed first when the day ends, and she waits by his classroom door. She silently offers her hand, and their walk to the gym is charged with the same unhurried contentedness.

He watches her during practice, rushing around as usual, being her efficient self. He’s more aware of her presence now, and the knowledge he can watch her as much as he likes makes him happy.

She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t have a thought to spare for him today, focused as she is on her duties, discussing with Takeda and Ukai about equipment inventory. But he prefers it that way. It means he’s unobtrusive. Their relationship isn’t sparks and fireworks. But alone, they’ve become strong enough on their own, and together, they’re stronger.

He helps push the ball cart back and carry the water bottles, as usual.

“Thanks,” she says, as usual, and bumps shoulders with him.

A week later they’re at dinner with her mother, seated around the Yachis’ dining room table and partaking in Yachi’s home-cooked meal. Yachi tells her the news at the end holding his hand under the table. Yachi’s mother gives Yamaguchi a hard look, and it’s to his credit, he looks back.

“I don’t have anything else to say, besides that if you think you can handle a relationship on top of your other commitments, you shouldn’t half ass any of them. And you won’t, as you’ve proven to me and yourself that you can manage a volleyball team.”

Yachi nods determinedly, the way Yamaguchi imagined she nodded when she first told her mother she was committing to the club. Her steely look fills him with pride, and it’s a far cry from the trembling mess of a girl who stumbled into the gym.

Yamaguchi’s first impression of Yachi was that she was "cute". Now, he thinks her "lovely".

 

* * *

 

It’s almost nine o’clock. The darkness outside, along with the eerily half-lit hallways, doesn’t make the thought of leaving the classroom appealing. But Yamaguchi _still_ hasn’t eaten yet, and his stomach very loudly voices its displeasure.

He can’t go home yet, though, on account of a certain blonde second year, who, despite her tiny stature, glared at him with the ire of an eight-meter dragon when he first hinted at the idea of taking a break.

“Hitoka-chan,” he tries again, this time very, very gently. “We have until next week to finish the club poster. Let’s get some food, and I’ll walk you to your bus stop. I’m sure Takeda-sensei’s ready to go, too.” Their advisor is passed out at the desk, his chest rising and falling with gentle snores and his glasses askew.

“This poster’s not going to finish itself!” Yachi’s voice is squeakier than usual. She determinedly leans closer to the monitor, as if to block out Yamaguchi’s existence. “If I stop now, I’ll lose my momentum! What if I eat, go home, open this up again, and I’m completely blocked?! Then the club will have to present an _empty_ poster. Or worse, one made with _stock photos_ and _WordArt_.”

“Um, you can write your ideas down before we go,” Yamaguchi offers, wisely deciding not to mention that stock photos and WordArt were exactly what the other clubs were doing. “I’m sure you won’t forget everything in just a few hours.”

Yachi’s voice twitches even higher with a note of hysteria. “I _need_ to submit this early. I have a test the day of! What if I fail the test? What if no one joins the club? What if Takeda-sensei and Inoue-sensei are so disappointed, I have to leave Karasuno in disgrace? What if I become the infamous Yachi Hitoka, failure of a club manager _and_ high school dropout?” Her eyes widen, and she wails, “Oh no, I didn’t even have the chance to drop out of _university_ -“

The coping methods worked, for the most part. But when Yachi worried herself into a frenzy, her frizzed hair tied back _and_ bobby pinned for extra security, her hand clenched around the mouse like it was a stress ball and her eyes manically gleaming, nothing could save her except uprooting her completely.

“Okay,” Yamaguchi says at last, standing up. He approaches the pink laptop she’s chained herself to for the past four hours, placing one hand on her shoulder and the other to unfurl her fingers from their stranglehold on the mouse. “You’ve worked really hard. Let’s go.”

“Where?!” she demands.

“For some fresh air.”

“As in, fresh air coming through the bars of a jail cell?! You’re taking me to a _dungeon_? What have I done?! Was it my high school delinquency? I’m too young and innocent for capital punishment!”

Her hands clamp to the desk as if preparing for a struggle, and Yamaguchi is only thankful she didn’t latch back onto the mouse. If he asked her to serve right now, her firepower could probably rival Asahi’s. Even at a time like this, Yamaguchi can’t help admiring her iron resolve. (Although she _really_ needs a break.)

“Not a dungeon. Outside.”

“I’m not going home, if that’s what you’re saying!” Her voice is approaching siren decibels now. “Ask my mom! She let me stay out later tonight!”

“I’m not forcing you to leave if you don’t want to,” Yamaguchi assures her, resigning himself to sleeping on an empty stomach tonight, and her brows unfurrow slightly. He’s not even going to address calling her mom; most likely, she’d give Yamaguchi an earful for being a terrible boyfriend and not force feeding her daughter a proper meal. “We’re just taking a walk around school, okay? It’ll clear your head.”

Gently gripping her arms, he coaxes Yachi to her feet, briefly letting go to scrawl a note to Takeda-sensei in case _he_ started to get any funny ideas. Yachi doesn’t voice actual agreement, but she has the good sense to pick up their jackets before exiting the classroom, and allows herself to be steered into the corridor.

“Anywhere you’d like to go?” Yamaguchi prompts her. Unnerved as he is by the shadows, he feels a little braver when he’s leading someone else along.

“The track field,” she says, rather sheepishly. The fight is rapidly draining out of her, and her reason returns with every step they take away from her computer. A few months ago, it would’ve taken her longer to settle down. “I like to sketch there sometimes.”

“The athletes don’t scare you?”

“Well, yeah. But I stay on the bleachers! I can practice sketching bodies in motion, and I have a bird’s eye view of more people to draw.”

“There’s no one on the track now. We can sit in the middle of it.”

Yachi’s eyes light up. “I’ve always wanted to do that! It’ll just feel a little strange, like I’m committing a crime. But now I’ve got an accomplice.”

“Committing a crime, like... high school delinquency?”

It’s too dark to see Yachi’s cheeks turn pink, but Yamaguchi knows they did by how fiercely she swats at him. “Nooo,” she moans. “I didn’t mean that! Any of it!”

“I know,” he says gently, and catches her flailing hand to tug her to him, a small and warm lamp in the dark. She fits perfectly into his side and refuses to leave it, nor will he release his grip, even as they lay their jackets on the grass patch at the heart of the track and sit down.

Yachi’s all too content to snuggle closer, leaning her head on his shoulder, and while he would love nothing more than to let her rest there, there’s a view she has to see. “Look,” he says quietly, leaning his head on hers, and points heavenwards.

She gasps with amazement, lifting herself up to get a better look. “Oh, _wow_!”

It’s a new moon, but the darkness gives way to a sea of natural lights, twinkling at them.

“You’ve never been stargazing?”

She pivots from side to side, taking everything in. “Never like this! It’s too bright where I live to see anything clearly.” Her voice is pitched higher again, this time from excitement, and he knows she’s smiling.

“I don’t suppose you know any constellations?” she asks, when she’s had her fill and her head is perched back on his shoulder.

“None at all. Except maybe… Orion? I know the brighter lights are sometimes planets.”

“Well, we can make our own constellations up!” She points at a cluster. “That one’s Nishinoya-san’s hair tuft!”

He points at another. “That one’s Tsukki’s glasses.”

“That one’s Tanaka-san’s scary face!”

“This one’s a hummingbird,” he says, and twists his finger around her ponytail, near the junction where her double star hairtie is.

“There’s one here, too,” she responds, refusing to be outdone. “A soggy fry!”

Her fingers trace a curved line along the freckles on his left cheek. But she doesn’t stop; her fingers continue to swirl absentmindedly, connecting the dots at the bridge of his nose, under his eye, at his cheekbone, doing it all over again.

“I’m really sorry for earlier. I made you worry, didn’t I?”

“Well, a bit,” he admits. “But not anymore.”

“No?” She tilts her head into his hand. “At least let me make it up to you! Let’s get some conbini food on our way home. My treat.”

“It’s fine. I think I understand your feelings.”

She blinks. “You do?”

“You wanted to be passionate about something, right? You are.”

Flushing furiously, Yachi kisses him, right on the lone stray freckle on his left cheek, the one he hates most for its conspicuousness. She’s about to move away immediately, when he takes her hand and pulls her closer.

“Tadashi-kun?”

“Mm?”

“C-can I kiss you? For real?”

His stomach tightens, but in answer he gently his free hand on her cheek. He can see her eyes, still wide with wonder, questions and the seemingly endless night of stars reflected in them.

Silence.

“I’m nervous,” he says, with a small laugh. It would otherwise be awkward, but he feels comfortable admitting that to her, trusting her not to ridicule him- and she doesn’t.

Her cheek moves under his palm as she smiles as well. “So am I! But we don’t have to do anything, you know. We can go as fast or slow as we like.”

The persons formerly known as Villager B and a spectator, now protagonists in center stage under the night sky. _This moment is ours, and ours alone_ , Yamaguchi thinks, and that spurs him onward.

“Would be a shame if we didn’t,” he says, his thumb gently stroking her skin, feeling it heat up. “Everything’s so beautiful. The stars, the view. You...”

Yachi’s eyes soften. She wraps her arms around his neck, and leans up.

**Author's Note:**

> Yamaguchi and Yachi ;A; They face their fears together, and become braver. Didn’t want to go too deep into the pool that is anxiety, so I kept things light. The timeline starts with moments from their first year and bleeds into the second. I considered excluding the Spring High bits as it’s ongoing, but I couldn’t bear to exclude it entirely.
> 
> Thanks to my beta [Sasa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/b_minor) and to [Sara](http://michichans.tumblr.com/), for helping tons, keeping me sane, and just being amazing. 
> 
> This [quote on mistakes](http://www.tvfanatic.com/quotes/there-are-certain-things-in-life-where-you-know-its-a-mistake-b/) inspired some of Yamayachi’s confession. 
> 
> [Side story on Yachi’s concerns about her chest.](http://nijimurashuuzo.tumblr.com/post/113464240792/haikyuu-side-story-translations)
> 
> Fic title is from Vienna Teng’s “Level Up”.
> 
> Hope you liked!


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